


Solving Problems

by L3t_U5_D0_That_Aga1n



Series: Marvel Hero Academia [14]
Category: Captain Britain and MI: 13, Spider-Man - All Media Types, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Crime-stopping, Don't copy to another site, Friendship, Midoriya Izuku being a dork, Parental Yagi Toshinori | All Might, Saving lives, Tiny plot advancements, legal loopholes, technicalities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 05:27:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26467948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/L3t_U5_D0_That_Aga1n/pseuds/L3t_U5_D0_That_Aga1n
Summary: In which Yagi Toshinori and Peter Parker don't really care about things like 'borders' or 'due process'.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Yagi Toshinori | All Might, Peter Parker/Mary Jane Watson
Series: Marvel Hero Academia [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1686835
Comments: 31
Kudos: 25





	1. Chapter 1

Solving Problems

**Spider-Man, Captain Britain, and all associated characters, are property of Marvel. My Hero Academia and all related characters are property of Kohei Horikoshi**

/+/+/+/+/

“Ah, Toshinori,” Nezu smiled as the Pro-Hero entered his office, “Glad you could make it!”

“Did you think I wouldn’t?”

“Eh,” the Quirk-Chimera shrugged, “Nemuri’s been bragging to everyone that she’s going to foist hosting the Sports Festival off to you. I thought you might just avoid U.A. altogether until the festival started.”

Toshinori huffed, crossing his arms, “I’ve faced worse than her. Besides, she can whine all she wants, I’m not putting myself in the spotlight like that. Bad enough you’re forcing me to give out medals.”

“I told you I’d milk you for all that you’re worth,” Nezu teased.

Toshinori rolled his eyes; in truth, Nezu had made him do very little in terms of public relations. No doubt honoring the true reason why Toshinori had bothered to join U.A.’s staff. It really was the least he could do—but he wouldn’t host the Sports Festival, no matter how much Nemuri begged.

“In any case,” Nezu straightened in his seat, a frown overtaking his features, “we have other matters to attend to.”

Toshinori grunted, “What have you found out about the Nomu? I asked Detective Tsukauchi, but he told me the particulars of the creature’s genetic make-up was ‘above his paygrade’.” Naomasa was a pretty genial and easy-going guy, but he’d confided in Toshinori that the amount of red tape surrounding the USJ incident made him want to pull his hair out.

“There isn’t much to know,” Nezu sighed. “The creature’s base genetic code is human—a human with an active Quirk gene—but it’s too heavily mutated to really get anything out of it.”

Toshinori hummed, “I know a couple of—”

Nezu held up a paw, “Let me stop you right there. We’re not going to be able to get the data over to your friends in the United States.”

Japan’s Top Hero scoffed, “Bureaucrats.”

“No kidding,” his boss commiserated. “They’re not even letting the Chinese take a crack at it—and in terms of superpowered policies they’re the closest thing we have to friends!”

Toshinori could never get behind Japan’s staunch isolationist policy. He’d tried to use the influence he’d gained as Japan’s Top Hero to foster better international relations but was stopped at every turn. Of course, the fact that Toshinori was once an American Vigilante didn’t really endear him in the eyes of the Japanese government. If not for Gran greasing a lot of palms (and the fact that Toshinori was simply too powerful to reasonably ignore) he probably would have been blacklisted.

He shook his head, “I know five people that, in seconds, would be able to figure out what made that thing tick—”

“How unfortunate,” Nezu cut in, “that those five men are all American.” Toshinori’s face twisted into a thunderous scowl. “But let’s move past that.” Nezu’s furred lips curled into a frown, “I’ve finally got word on increasing our security for the festival.”

“I still can’t believe that you need to get approval for that sort of thing.”

The chimera shrugged, “Part and parcel of being part of modern society. In any case, we’ve got the local agencies to agree to more rigorous patrols of Tokyo.” He reached into his desk, pulling out a large packet and letting fall on his desk with a heavy _thump_ , “Here’s one of the contracts.”

Toshinori picked up the massive bundle of paper, brow furrowing deeper with every turn of the page. “‘No more than ten hours’? ‘Must be at least two city blocks away from Endeavor’s agency’? ‘Reserve the right to any captured villains’?” Toshinori slammed the contract on the table, “What the hell is this?!”

“One of several similar contracts drawn up between the legal teams of the Hero Agencies that ‘graciously’ agreed to provide extra security,” Nezu said, no more pleased than Toshinori.

Toshinori leaned back in his seat, taking a deep breath. In truth, he loved the idea of Hero Agencies. They provided a very wide safety net for any Hero that needed it. God knows he and the other Vigilantes that operated in New York years ago could have used better than their illegal (if genuine) support network.

But pride and greed and envy had to go in and twist what should have been a noble institution.

“Thankfully,” Nezu spoke up with a wry smile, “we managed to avoid the rather lengthy…discussion that occurred when Team Idaten and the Endeavor Agency both ‘laid claim’ over Hosu.”

“Hosu?” Toshinori parroted, “Why the hell—?”

“No one would come right out and say it, but it’s believed that Stain has been operating out of there.”

Toshinori’s mood dropped for a decidedly different reason. The ‘Hero-Killer’. A madman with a grudge that was slicing people up like a blender. He’d been operating around central Japan for months, but lately was seen nearer to Tokyo’s newer districts than not. He’d killed or crippled at least thirty people since he started.

Toshinori tried to find him, put an end to his reign of terror. But the man, unfortunately, was smart. He’d scurry away to whatever hellhole he crawled out of whenever Toshi thought he had a lead on him. It wasn’t a total waste—Villains that tried to take advantage of the chaos were always apprehended—but it frustrated him to no end on the days he wasn’t busy with the Midoriya family.

He shook his head, “Okay…that…aside things are good then?” Nezu’s frown spoke wonders. “Ugh, what is it?”

“I…” his boss shook his head, “I just worry it won’t be enough. Hundreds of Villains managed to infiltrate USJ. I developed the security measures myself, and they did nothing to prevent it!” Nezu punctuated his words by slamming his paws on the table. “And the masterminds behind the invasion are still in the wind.”

Toshinori nodded. He pursed his lips, “You know, I’m not actually needed until you start handing out medals.” It would pain him to not be there for Izuku, but he couldn’t leave innocent people out in the wind.

“No.” Toshinori glared at the declaration, and Nezu glared right back. “No, Toshinori. If the worst—like someone crashing the festival—comes to pass, I want you at full strength. Can’t have you running around all over Tokyo before then.”

Sighing, Toshinori slumped in his seat. “Fair enough.” He frowned, “What about outside assistance?”

“Like the Avengers or the MI:13 in the United Kingdom?” Nezu cocked a brow, “I brought it up. Guess what I was told. Go on, guess!”

“I get it,” Toshinori groused. He couldn’t even blame that entirely on Japan. Both the American and United Kingdom governments had their own issues with ‘their’ superpowered operative acting on foreign soil. Brian was only ever able to visit and act within U.S. soil because of the time he’d spent as a Vigilante back when they were in college. But the one time he tried to bring his friend over to Japan? God, he’d wanted to pull out his teeth. And Brian was a legitimate, government-backed Hero! Forget about trying to invite Peter, who, despite the increased relations with the Avengers, was still very much a Vigilante. A non-entity as far as Japan was concerned.

And then, like lightning, an idea lit up in Toshinori’s mind. As he thought more and more one it, he grinned, earning an inquisitive hum from Nezu. 

When he told the anthropomorphic animal his fledgling plan, he too was grinning ear-to-ear.

/+/+/+/+/

“DAAAAD!”

Peter blinked, looking up from his newspaper (the Daily Bugle, of course) to see his daughter run into the living room. She was running full speed and would have rammed knee-first into the coffee table, had she not leapt into the air and front flipped over it.

Peter felt a twinge of panic over the acrobatic display but calmed down when his spider-sense reported nothing out of the ordinary. Still, he plastered a frown on his face. “Mayday, what have your mother and I said about using your powers in the house?”

She tilted her head, “But my spider-sense didn’t go off. You said it would keep me safe.”

“No,” Peter shook his head, “I said it will _help_ keep you safe.”

Mayday’s nose scrunched (much like her mother’s did in similar situations) and she asked, “What’s the difference?”

“The difference is that the spider-sense isn’t infallible.” At her blank stare, he clarified, “It doesn’t always work.” She frowned, crossing her arms and giving him a stare that told him she didn’t believe him. He just folded up his newspaper. She was watching him leaning back on the balls of her feet (she had good, non-spidery instincts, at least). Thus, she was startled when he tossed the newspaper in the air and let out a yelp when he reached out and tweaked her nose.

“Hey!” she swatted at his hand, “What was that for?”

“Oh?” Peter grinned, “Didn’t sense that coming?” She was still frowning but was more thoughtful than annoyed. It was only then that he noticed that she had his phone in her hands. And it was on. In a call.

Peter’s stomach dropped. “U-Uh…Mayday? Who’s on the phone?”

She blinked, “Oh, yeah! Uncle Toshi called.”

Peter managed not to sigh in relief, “Oh, ok. Hand it over,” she did, (and his mood further brightened upon seeing that Mayday had also muted the call). “Thanks sweetie,” he pressed a kiss against her forehead, “Now go finish your homework.”

“Yeah, Dad,” Mayday nodded, giving him a quick hug before leaving the room.

Peter smiled, leaning back into his seat and unmuting the call. “Heya, Toshi.”

“Peter, good to hear your voice,” his friend responded.

“Same here.” Peter cleared his throat, “How’s the investigation going?”

“Stalled,” the Japanese Hero growled. Peter nodded in sympathy—more than once Toshi, and Brian, had complained that investigating crimes was just as, if not more, difficult working with the police than slinking around as Vigilantes. Sure, they had a better support system and more resources, but there was red tape up the wazoo.

“Bu~ut,” Toshi sang, “I may have a solution to that—and another thing that’s been bugging me.”

“Okay…” Peter said, not needing his spider-sense to tell him something was up.

“Did you know that Spider-Man doesn’t technically exist?”

“…Is this your way of telling me that we’ve been dumped in some sort of alternate dimension, because I’ve got a ten-year-old girl in the other room that says otherwise.”

“No—at least, I don’t think.” Peter let out a disinterested hum, “Anyway, Spider-Man still isn’t officially hired by the Avengers, right?”

“Define ‘hired’.”

“Given a paycheck, part of an employee roster, earn a 401k, the whole shebang.”

“No,” Peter shook his head. He got free use of any labs and resources, and a coupon book every New Years, but no actual money. He cocked a brow, “Why?” Toshi exclaimed triumphantly. “Toshi?”

“Spider-Man is officially a commodity of All Mighty Saviors.”

Peter was silent for a moment, before bursting out into laughter, “Oh my god! I forgot you called it that!”

“Shut up, it’s a good name!”

“No! No, it’s not!” Peter snorted, “Don’t know how you convinced Granny to let you call it that.”

“Well,” Toshi grew bashful, and Peter knew he was blushing, “Gran didn’t find out until after he filed the paperwork. Gave me an earful about it.” Peter guffawed once more.

And then he remembered the bit Toshi said before mentioning the ludicrous name of his Hero Agency. “Wait, what was that about Spider-Man?”

“Ah,” now Toshi sounded all too pleased with himself. “See, technically speaking, Vigilantes are not considered people by their countries’ governments.”

“I’ve got a couple bullet wounds that suggest otherwise.”

“Well, sure, you, you know, _exist_ , but you aren’t a citizen of the nation. You don’t have a birth certificates or tax information or, in the U.S’s case, Social Security Numbers.”

“So, vigilantes might as well be, what, robots?”

“Yup!”

Peter pinched the bridge of his nose, “And why are you telling me this?”

“Because, through that technicality, I—through my Agency—can claim you as an asset. Thus, I want you to come to Japan to patrol Tokyo. Sections of it, at least.”

“…No, seriously, what do you want?”

“I’m being serious.”

Pater clicked his tongue, “C’mon, Toshi, really?”

“Peter,” Toshi’s voice took on a grave tone, “I’m worried. Something’s happening in Japan, and I need someone I can trust to help pick up the slack.”

“Oh, so you want me to just commute halfway around the world?”

“Not all the time! Just for the next few days, while the Sports Festival is in full swing.”

Peter rolled his eyes, “Oh yeah, your country’s ‘let’s laugh as children try and kill each other’ national holiday weekend.”

“It’s steeped in tradition,” his friend half-heartedly countered.

“Whatever. I still don’t see why _I_ have to go.”

“Because your one of a handful of people I trust implicitly.” Peter blushed a little at that. “And because I need to give you the data we’ve gathered on the Nomu.”

Peter blinked, then frowned, “Your own eggheads haven’t gotten anything?”

“No,” Toshi spat. “We don’t get a lot of clones in Japan—I’m thinking they’re an American affliction.”

“I’ll be sure to tell Kaine you said that.”

“Point being, we don’t know what to look for. And the higher-ups don’t want to admit it.”

“So on top of getting me to do your dirty work—”

“I’ll also be able to hand you the data on Nomu.”

“Why Toshi,” Peter teased, “I thought you left behind such illegal, _Vigilante_ behavior here in the States?”

“Alas,” Toshi sighed, “The corruption runs deep.” Silence followed, before it was broken up by their gleeful laughter.

Peter collected himself first, “I’m gonna have to talk it over with MJ, but I think this could work. Give me the details.”

“Thanks, Peter. Ok, so it’ll go like this…

/+/+/+/+/

“Oh, Peter, do you have to?”

“Technically, no,” Peter said, dropping onto bed next to his wife. “But…Toshi wouldn’t have asked if he wasn’t worried.”

MJ bit her lip, nose scrunching as she fell into deep thought. “You wouldn’t be gone all day?”

“No. Just as long as the festival goes on. I think that’s something like four hours a day for three days. Give or take an hour.”

She cocked a brow, “Four hours to swing around the capital of a country to keep it safe?”

“Not the entire city,” he shook his head. “Toshi’s outlined several districts that he thinks are the most vulnerable. Plus, theire train system is at least ten times more efficient than ours.” At her dubious expression he added, “I won’t get tired. I’m not _that_ old.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were thinking it.”

“Oh, so you’re a telepath now?”

“I prefer to call it MJpath. It’s very specific, only works on one person.”

“Oh?” His wife leaned over, running her fingers down his chest, “And what am I thinking now?”

“You’re thinking you can use sex to distract me from this conversation.” At her pout he added, “It’s an effective strategy, but one both of us have used many times before.”

The gorgeous redhead huffed, “Way to spoil the mood.”

“Excuse me for wanting to give me friend a definitive answer by tomorrow morning.”

“Well, you’re not,” she said, turning around and pulling the covers up to her shoulder.

Peter sighed, scooching forward and pressing against MJ’s back. “What’s up?”

“Thought you could read my mind?”

“You’re giving me a lot of negative feedback. It’s hard to parse out the true signals. Might need a repeater, it should lessen the error.”

MJ sniffed, but he could hear the smile in her voice as she said, “Nerd speak, just what I wanted to hear.” Peter just hummed, running a hand through her hair. “It’s just,” she turned around, staring into his eyes, “it’s stressful enough when you’re traipsing around the Bronx. And now want to go thousands of miles away?”

Peter smiled, leaning forward and pressing a kiss against her lips. “I’ll be fine. The Villains in Japan aren’t like the ones here. There are more of them, sure, but they’re mostly one-trick ponies. Idiots besides. And I’ll be careful.” She sent him a look. “I will! I won’t go looking for drug dens or follow-up on leads. Just going to go out, punch some fools into the pavement, and be back in time for dinner.” She still looked reluctant. “C’mon, it’s for Toshi. You know he can’t put on his cape if I’m not right next to him coaching him through it.”

That brought a smile to her face. “I guess it would be cruel of you to leave him hanging.” She sighed, “Fine. But _you’re_ going to tell Mayday that you’re going on a trip without her.”

Peter sucked in a breath, “Ooh…maybe I won’t go.” MJ laughed at that, and Peter took the chance to kiss her again. And again. And again.

He quickly found himself on his back, MJ leaning over him. He blinked, a bemused smile on his lips, “Wait, seriously?”

His wife smiled, trailing kisses down his neck, “You _did_ read my mind,” and Peter was left a moaning mess.

/+/+/+/+/

**A/N: I plan on making a lot of different stories centered around the Sports Festival. Be sure to leave a review. Later.**


	2. Chapter 2

Solving Problems: Just Another Workday

**Spider-Man, Captain Britain, and all associated characters, are property of Marvel. My Hero Academia and all related characters are property of Kohei Horikoshi**

/+/+/+/+/

“You don’t _have_ to follow me, you know?”

Aizawa Shota managed not to twitch at All Mig—Yagi’s—statement. “You somehow managed to talk Principle Nezu into bringing a notorious American criminal on school grounds and let him loose onto the city. Since I seem to be the only adult on the premises, I feel the need to overlook this…insanity.”

Yagi just rolled his eyes, a smirk on his lips as he led them forward. Shota sneered at the man’s back—and people wondered why he didn’t like him.

They made their way to Principle Nezu’s office, where the Chimera was sitting at his desk, sipping at tea. He perked up upon seeing them, “Ah, Shota! Surprised to see you here! I’d have thought Hizashi would have dragged you over to the announcer’s booth for sound checks.” Shota shivered—he liked Hizashi, but the man was grating in large doses. And he was going to be trapped in a booth with him for hours on end…oh god, kill him now.

He pushed thoughts of his suicide out of his mind, focusing on his boss, who was smiling at him without a care in the world. “The two of you are bringing an American criminal into the school through a loophole in the law. You better believe I’m going to be here for it.” Nezu just chuckled, shaking his head at Shota like he was an overcautious child. Anger and indignation reaching record highs, Shota was prepared to rail into his boss.

Until bright orange light burst out from the eastern wall, cutting off any further conversation.

Shota turned, scowling as strange runes materialized out of thin air, rotating along the wall. Magic, just what this day needed.

The runes sank into the wall, the wall dipping into itself and creating a dark cone. Doctor Strange—the ‘Sorcerer Supreme’—floated through the portal. He smiled, saying (in impeccable Japanese), “Ah, Nezu, Toshinori, it’s good to see you.” He then frowned when his eyes fell upon Shota, “And who are you?”

Shota chose to be an Underground Hero specifically to avoid attention, and he was a very effective Hero and his country, at least, recognized his effort. Still, it rankled that this ‘Master of the Mystic Arts’ didn’t even attempt to pretend to know who he was. “Aizawa Shota,” he bit out.

The man nodded, turning and smiling at Yagi, “And how are you, my friend? Keeping up with your recovery efforts?”

The blonde snorted, “I think I’m out of recovery by now, no?”

“On the contrary, with injuries of your extent, you will never be truly ‘out of recovery’.” Yagi deflated a bit, “But I’m confident that you’re having an easier time of things than before, hm?” Yagi nodded, before looking past Doctor Strange. The Doctor grunted, “Give him a moment, he was just finishing a very later dinner—or an early lunch, I suppose.”

Yagi nodded, leaning back just in time for a red-and-blue colored shape to leap through the portal.

Shota tried not to scowl as Spider-Man landed in a perch on Nezu’s desk. “Sup. How’s it hanging?” (His accent was far from immaculate, but at least he was understandable).

“Spider-Man!” Yagi exclaimed, walking forward with a wide smile, “It’s been too long!”

Spider-Man reached his arms out, clapping Yagi on the back, “Not long enough!” The pair laughed like a couple of children (though Shota couldn’t help but notice that Yagi was more relaxed than he’d ever seen him). “So, when do I get started?”

“I’d like to take a few moments to go over what we want you to do, actually,” Nezu said.

“WOAH!” Spider-Man shrieked, leaping into the air and sticking onto the ceiling. He darted his head down, blank white eyes staring down at Nezu, “I thought you were some sort of giant stuffed animal.”

Shota growled, but Nezu laughed it off, “It happens with the more exuberant children as well.”

If Spider-Man took offense to that, he didn’t say. Instead, he crouched on the ceiling, a sharp hiss sounding from his body as he formed a thin strand of webbing, slinking to the ground along it. “Hey…you’re Nezu, right? The animal with a Quirk?”

“Indeed,” the Chimera nodded.

Spider-Man snickered, “Man…do you have any idea how many mutants hate you? And I’m just talking about the Brotherhood. Some of the X-Men are weirded out by you.”

Nezu smiled, a sharp and predatory thing, and said, “Oh, I’m well aware of the…complications my existence presents to the mutant agenda. I’ve spoken at length about it with both Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr.”

Spider-Man peered closer at Nezu, “…How are you alive?”

“I scurry.”

“Hah! I like you, you’re fun! And a lot nicer to look at than blondie and the half-dead mummy over there.” Shota’s scowl deepened, especially when Spider-Man looked over and said, “Who are you?”

“Aizawa Shota,” he ground out.

“Cool, cool.” He turned to Doctor Strange, “So, meet back here in about four hours?”

The sorcerer nodded, “Either I or an associate shall bring you back to New York. Farewell, all.” With that said, he floated backwards into the portal, after which it faded from existence, leaving a regular wall in its place.

“So,” Spider-Man clapped his hands, bringing everyone’s attention back to him, “why don’t we talk shop so I can get out of your hair and let you get on with Muderworld-lite.”

“…What?” Shota growled (Yagi didn’t outwardly react beyond a twitch of his lips, but Nezu was frowning, which he considered a win).

“Murderworld,” Spider-Man repeated. “You know—a place created to trap Heroes, usually young ones, with the intention of killing them and laughing at their failed attempts to live.”

The Underground Hero stomped forward with a snarl, stopping face-to-mask with the American criminal. “We don’t kill our students!”

“Oh, maybe not in the literal sense,” Spider-Man leaned back, lazily waving a hand, “But you can’t deny that students that fail to impress the masses—through their own failings or plain old bad luck—will find their ‘careers’ dead in the water.”

Shota would have responded, had Nezu not chuckled and said, “Well, when you put it like _that_.” He sent his boss a shocked frown, only for the Chimera to say, “But we don’t have time to debate the pros and cons of the Sports Festival. Trains going to leave in about five minutes, and unless you want to wait around for ten minutes for the next one, we should get down to brass tacks.” The superpowered animal turned to Shota, “I think you’ve other things to work on, hm?”

He bristled at the blatant dismissal, but, honestly, couldn’t think of any logical reason he could stay. So, he turned on his heel, slamming the door behind him as he left.

/+/+/+/+/

Peter hummed as Shota slammed the door shut, “He didn’t look happy.”

Toshinori shrugged, “I’ve known him for a few months now, and I’ve never seen him smile.”

Nezu laughed, bringing their attention to him, “Shota’s a traditionalist that wholeheartedly believes in the system.”

Peter clicked his tongue, “I give it five years.”

“I give it two,” Toshinori countered.

“You’re both wrong,” Nezu grinned, “Shota _hates_ to admit he’s wrong. He’ll stand by the established rules till the day he dies.” The mouse-dog-bear things smile died a bit, “I worry about him, in truth. Japan can’t afford to continue acting like it has—something’s going to give, and I can only hope the backlash doesn’t irrevocably break us.” Toshinori looked down at that. Gran—back when they talked all the time—had shared similar worries ever since the Yakuza were stamped out.

Peter cleared his throat, “Not to sound rude, but can we focus on the current issues. Specifically, those that concern why I even dragged myself out of bed and jumping through a magic portal to come here.”

“Because we’re friends?” Toshinori smirked.

“Try again.”

“Because you won’t stand by and let innocent people get hurt.”

“Ah,” Peter snapped his fingers, “I knew it was something compulsive.”

Nezu cleared his throat, pulling out a map of Tokyo and the surrounding districts. He nodded at Peter, “Toshinori tells me you’ve been studying maps of the area.”

“Yeah,” the American Hero nodded, “A little denser than what I’m used to, but your city planners knew their stuff.”

“Alright,” Nezu smirked, pointing at the map, “Here’s where we want you to start for today….”

/+/+/+/+/

Sato Akira knew, every year, without fail, that crime saw an upsurge when U.A. hosted its Sports Festival. Most years, he was able to stay at home and avoid the mess.

Alas, his boss wanted everyone to pull double duty that weekend, and he was forced to traverse the city on one of the more dangerous days of the year.

“Hey, you!” Akira could barely blink before something wrapped around his waist, pulling him into an alley. He was slammed into a wall, vision dizzying as he struggled to keep upright.

His vision cleared, and he couldn’t help the disgusted sigh that burst past his lips. It was some octopus-looking punk. He had red, slimy skin and tentacles in place of his arms. The punk frowned, “What? Don’t like what you see?”

Not for the first time in his life, Akira cursed the fact that he has such a weak Quirk. The ability to turn his head on a swivel in any direction had never seemed more useless. “What do you want?”

The punk hummed, “Well, originally I just wanted some cash,” Akira gasped as the tentacle around his waist tightened, “but I think I’ll teach you some manners first!”

Cursing his bad luck, Akira prayed that a Hero would come by and save him (a foolish prayer; they were too bust scouting children for their empires).

_Thwip-Thwip_

“Wha—AAH!” the punk screamed, the pressure around Akira’s waist vanished as his attacker was lifted into the air.

“Yeesh,” a man’s voice called out from above him, “I know you guys like your cuisine raw, but this is a little much, isn’t it?”

Akira blinked, darting his head up and see a red and blue figure land in the alley, thin white strands of rope—no, webs—shooting out from his wrist and wrapping the punk in a white cocoon.

The punk cursed, “Hey, who the fu—mmphMMHPH!” he was cut off as a glob of webbing covered his mouth.

The Spider-Man copycat (in a remarkably well-done imitation costume) turned to Akira. “You alright?” Akira had to admire the dedication to the role—he even sounded American.

“I’m fine. But you should stop this.”

“Huh?”

“I appreciate the help, but you shouldn’t advertise your Vigilante activities by copying one of the more notorious ones.”

“Heh!” The copy-cat laughed, “You’d think this wouldn’t get old.” He reached into his belt, pulling out a card. “Here you are!” Akira accepted the card, arching a brow as he read it.

It read: ‘This is the real Spider-Man from New York. I’ve asked him to assist me in ensuring the safety of this city.’ Akira recognized the signature of All Might underneath it (he didn’t recognize the second signature, ‘Nezu’, but assumed it was someone important).

He looked up at the apparently legitimate Vigilante. “This is real? Legal?”

“Eh?” the Vigilante moved his hands in a so-so gesture. “Technically it’s not, you know, entirely legal, but I’m not going to let that stop me from doing what’s right.”

Akira smirked, handing back the card, “Well, thanks. Glad you came by when you did.”

“No problem,” the Vigilante said. “You got a phone? Should probably call the police. I would, but my phone plan doesn’t include international coverage.”

Akira chuckled, “I’ve got it. And, again, thank you.”

Spider-Man gave him a two-finger salute, before leaping into the air and swinging away. Akira smiled after the colorful figure, before pulling out his phone, and dialing the police, “Hello?” he said when they picked up, “I’ve like to report a crime. The Vigilante—”

“Spider-Man?” the officer cut him off.

“Yes, sir,” he replied, not even bothering to ask how they knew.

There was a harsh snort, “He’s efficient, that’s for sure. Give us the address and we’ll send someone to get your statement and pick up the criminal.”

/+/+/+/+/

Peter sighed, lying back on the roof of the bullet train as it sped along the tracks. “Toshi wasn’t kidding. All sorts of freaks are crawling out of the woodworks.” Peter didn’t really have a stake in the whole ‘X-gene vs. Quirk-gene’ debate (being a Human Mutate himself) but he had to say, Quirk-genes trended towards more…drastic physical changes on average compared to the X-gene. “Least I haven’t fought any lizard-people yet—that’s be a bit too much like home.”

He sat up, narrowing his eyes beneath his mask, “Where am I headed again?” He saw the next train station in the distance: ‘Hosu Station’ it read.

The American Hero frowned, “Didn’t Toshi and Nezu tell me something about Hosu?” He wracked his brain for a minute, before snapping his fingers, “Right! A couple Pro-Heroes were looking for a serial killer.” The Heroes in question—some guy that dressed like a European knight and a Human Torch rip-off—had ‘laid claim’ on the area. God, what utter idiocy. Peter was no stranger to personal crusades, but he’d never tried and prevented anyone from taking down a maniac.

He pursed his lips. He’d promised MJ that he wouldn’t go looking for too much trouble…but he couldn’t just leave innocent people in danger.

“Ah, I’ll just swing around for a bit. What are the odds I’m going to find this guy anyway?”

/+/+/+/+/

“AAGGH!”

“I should learn to talking about the odds,” Peter grumbled as he looked down from a rooftop to see a rail-thin ninja stab a katana through a knight’s leg (one of several stab wounds the knight already had), sending him tumbling to the floor.

The ninja drew his bloodied blade up to his face, licking it (gross) and stalking towards the downed knight.

Taking that as his cue, Peter leapt down, shooting his wrists out and aiming half-a-dozen blasts of webbing at the killer.

But the killer wasn’t a fool. He turned around and cut the webbing out of the air (an impressive feat, all things considered) sneering as Peter landed between him and the knight. “A copy-cat?”

“‘Copy-cat’?” Peter gestured to himself, “You think some mere copy-cat could make this suit look this good?”

The killer—Peter thought his name was ‘Grime’ or something—huffed, “You certainly sound like him.” Then, without warning, the killer shot his left hand out, half-a-dozen shuriken flying through the air.

Peter responded in kind, shooting out webbing and stopping the projectiles in the air. He was surprised, however, to see Grimey cover the distance from him to Peter in about a second. He held out his blade, bringing it into a wide, horizontal swing.

And it shattered against Peter’s armored suit.

The killer gasped, and then cried out in pain as Peter kicked him in his midsection, sending him flying to a wall. A few well-placed webs stuck him in place.

Peter chuckled, “I fight people that can bench press semi-trucks, spit acid, or use laser weapons. You really think a sword’s gonna cut it?” He walked up to the dazed killer, letting his spider-sense guide him to the weapons hidden on his body. There were a lot.

He whistled as he dropped the twelfth dagger on the ground, “How do you not cut yourself on these things?”

“You’re really him, aren’t you?” Peter looked up. Grimey’s face was forcibly upturned by webbing, but he still managed to look down at Peter and say, “You’re the real Spider-Man.” At Peter’s nod, he asked, “What are you doing here?”

“A favor for All Might.”

“All Might?” Peter shivered at the almost gleeful inflection in the man’s voice, “All Might sent for you?” Before Peter could say anything else, he said, “Maybe there is hope for this country.”

“And with that you’ve lost talking privileges.” Peter webbed his mouth shut, but the man didn’t seem to mind. Barely even noticed.

That done, Peter returned his attention to the knight, who was slowly lifting himself off the ground. He hurried over, helping the man to a sitting position. “Easy, easy. You’ve lost a fair amount of blood.”

The knight turned to Peter, his gaze a touch unfocused through his faceguard. “T-Thank you.”

“Call up an ambulance and the cops and we’ll be even,” Peter replied. The knight nodded, reaching into his belt and pulling out a phone.

/+/+/+/+/

Peter climbed through the window to Nezu’s office to find Toshi sitting in a chair. The blonde chuckled, “I forgot you don’t like to do things by half!”

“Oi, don’t remind me. MJ’s gonna tan my hide when she finds out I took down a serial killer. On accident.”

“Well,” Toshi rose to his feet, “regardless of your domestic disputes, you’ve done quite a lot for Tokyo—and Japan at large.” His lips curled into a wide smirk, “Wonder what you’ll get into tomorrow?”

“Assuming my wife doesn’t tie me to the bed my own webbing.” At Toshi’s wider grin, Peter huffed, “Not like that, ya perv!”

Toshi sighed, “Anyway, could you wait a bit, before leaving. I’ve got someone I want you to meet.”

“Oh,” Peter grinned beneath his mask, “this kid you won’t shut up about?” Toshi blushed, but it did nothing to erase the pride oozing from his body. “Go on, I’m not going anywhere.” Toshi nodded, quickly exiting the room.

Peter leaned against a wall as he waited, when his spider-sense buzzed at him to move. He did, humming when the wall melted, a magic portal taking its place. Doctor Strange floated through, “Spider-Man,” he nodded, “ready to go?”

“In a bit,” Peter shrugged, “Toshi wanted me to meet someone.”

The sorcerer nodded, floating down to a chair and sitting on it, “I’ll wait with you.”

Peter nodded, a little flustered on the inside. Strange was a good guy, good friend, but he could get a good read on the guy. Made small talk torture.

Thankfully, they weren’t left alone for long. Toshinori opened the door, “My boy,” he said, “I’d like you to meet—oh! Hello Doctor!”

Toshinori stepped forward, letting a short (if buff) green-haired teenager covered in bandaged (his right arm set in a cast) enter to room. The kid’s eyes went wide upon seeing Peter and Doctor Strange, and he lifted his cast clad arm at them. “Y-Y-Y-Y-Y-Y-You’re S-S-S-S-S-S-S-Spi-d-d-d-d-er-M-M-M-Man a-a-a-a-and—”

“Doctor Strange,” the sorcerer cutoff the stuttering boy, rising to his feet with a soft smile. “And you are?”

“M-M-M-M-M-M-M-M-M-M-M-M-M—”

“Midoriya Izuku,” Peter cut him. “Nice to finally meet you.”

“Y-Y-Y-Y-Y-Y-Y-Y-Y-Y—”

“Kid,” Peter’s voice grew a touch stern, “Stop that. Stuttering’s cute in small doses only. After that it’s just annoying.”

Midoriya blushed, gulping audibly, “S-Sorry.”

“It’s cool.” Peter gave the kid a once over, “Hey…you were in the top three of the festival, right?” He hadn’t paid that much attention to it, but he did recognize the young man’s freckled face as he stood on a podium.

Midoriya nodded, “Yeah. I…I got third place.” He looked down; a bit disappointed in himself, no doubt. Peter didn’t think that was so bad. He may have thought the whole ‘kids beating on each other’ thing was stupid and terrible and just begging for problems down the line, but considering his handicap, Midoriya made a pretty good showing.

“Yeah,” Toshi smiled down at Midoriya, ruffling his hair, “He’s done me proud!” Midoriya blushed, looking a lot like a tomato for a few seconds, before he composed himself. Though he still had an ear-to-ear grin on his face.

Doctor Strange cleared his throat, “Well, it was nice you meet you, young man, but Spider-Man and I must get going. The portal is waiting, after all.”

Midoriya gasped, somehow just seeing the portal where a wall should have been. He gasped, “A magic portal!” He shot forward, stopping at the foot of the portal. “What these runes? I don’t recognize the language—it’s probably a long dead one, or maybe from a different dimension? And how does it work? Does it fold dimensional space like paper? Are there interdimensional pathways invisible to the naked eye that sorcerers can use? Does—”

“Man,” Peter shook his head, “and I thought _I_ was a motormouth!”

Midoriya flinched, once more looking like a tomato. “Er, s-sorry. I get…excited…”

“Young man,” Doctor Strange smiled, “Never apologize for your curiosity. Though you could stand to temper it.” Midoriya blushed a little more, before waddling back to Toshi. “Well, let’s go.”

Peter waved at Toshi and Midoriya, “Nice to finally meet you!” and followed Doctor Strange through the portal.

He shuddered as he passed through it, coming out on the top floor of Strange’s mansion. “That’s always weird.”

“I’d get used to it. You’re going to do it four more times, after all.”

Peter scoffed, “Assuming my wife doesn’t lock me in the house after I tell her I lucked into capturing a serial killer halfway across the world.”

Doctor Strange smirked, “Just an average workday, huh?”

/+/+/+/+/

**A/N: I must’ve remade the Stain fight a dozen times. I always ended up forgetting that Tensei was bleeding out right next to them. Be sure to leave a review. Later.**


	3. Chapter 3

Solving Problems: Dark Tidings

**Spider-Man, Captain Britain, and all associated characters, are property of Marvel. My Hero Academia and all related characters are property of Kohei Horikoshi**

/+/+/+/+/

Thankfully, MJ did not see fit to cocoon Peter in his own webbing and tie him to their bed. She did, however, get that vicious glint in eyes that appeared when she was proven right, and sent him to sleep on the couch until he was done magically travelling to Japan.

A day which couldn't have come sooner.

Peter's capture of the Hero Killer—as the media had dubbed the crazy ninja—hadn't quite reached the public ear, but it certainly circulated through Japan's Hero community. The second day he'd shown up, Nezu had _judiciously_ warned him against appearing in Hosu again, as well as a couple other districts, to avoid unnecessary confrontation.

Didn't stop any other Heroes he ran into from looking at him like he drowned their children. (Thankfully, he'd managed to avoid the Human Torch rip-off, who he'd been told was…jealous of sharing the spotlight, and especially pissed that Peter had stolen his thunder. Kinda like the actual Human Torch, really).

In any case, he did what he did best. Webbing up fools and looking good while doing it.

It was the end of his third and final day traipsing around Japan, and once again, he was waiting for Doctor Strange to open a portal to New York.

Only this time, both Nezu and Toshi were waiting with him, a flash drive—containing the original investigation report and gathered data—and a stuffed manila folder sitting on the chimera's desk.

Peter hummed, picking up the file and thumb drive, "I thought you said no one's been able to crack the Nomu's secrets."

"We did," Nezu nodded.

Peter fixed him a soft glare, "So why are you giving me all the scrap work?"

"I figured you might appreciate a starting off point?"

Peter snorted, dropping the folder, "I don't. No point in parsing through weeks' worth of nothing."

Toshi smirked at his boss, "Told you."

"It never hurts to be sure," the bear-dog-mouse-thing calmly replied.

It was at that moment that the eastern wall melted away, a portal to New York appearing, Doctor Strange waiting on the other side.

"And that's my cue," Peter nodded. He held out his hand to Nezu, "It was nice meeting you."

"Likewise," he smirked, "but I'm afraid we may never see each other again." Nezu had confided in both Toshi and Peter that Japanese politicians were scrambling to update their international laws in light of Spider-Man's recent appearances and massive success in ending the Hero Killer's reign of terror. Making them stricter, unfortunately.

"Oh, certainly not in Japan," Peter nodded. "But stop by New York if you ever get the chance. I'll buy you a 'Dog."

"Don't," Toshinori cut in, "those things will make you sick."

"Bah!" Peter waved his hand, "You just have a weak stomach."

"I have a working gag reflex," his friend countered. They smiled at one another—well, as well as Peter could beneath his mask.

Peter stepped forward, patting Toshi's shoulder, "It was good to see you. Take care of yourself."

Toshi reciprocated the gesture, "You too."

/+/+/+/+/

David entered his and Peter's joint office early in the morning to the somewhat familiar sight of his friend hunched over his computer. What was not familiar was the frown creasing the Hero's features.

"Peter," David nodded, dropping his things of at his own desk, "what's got you all frowny?"

"Mutated DNA from something called a 'Nomu'." David blinked, then looked up at the security camera in the corner of the room. The light next to the camera was a little darker than the standard 'on' light. A security measure developed by Tony Stark (that Peter won during a poker game) that allowed one to create a seamlessly fake recording of you performing your normal day-to-day duties. It…wasn't really legal, but it took a load off both their minds with regards to Peter's Heroic activities.

That potential weight off his mind, David walked over and asked, "Anything interesting?"

"Depends on your definition of 'interesting'," Peter groused, shifting over a bit to give David some room. The engineer tilted his head at the pictures on the screen. Even now, he could barely DNA's base pairs, so everything on the screen was little more than gibberish. But still, even he could tell that this thing's genetic make-up was…wrong.

Peter highlighted a specific strand, "You see that?" David nodded, "That's where the Quirk-gene is located. In this case, where _multiple_ active Quirk-genes are located."

"Multiple?!" David couldn't help but gasp. He drew inward at Peter's grave nod. He'd only ever heard of one way someone could have multiple different Quirks. He wet his lips, "Toshi's not gonna like this."

"I warned him," was all Peter said, turning back to the screen. They fell into silence, Peter sifting through the data, David wondering how their friend was going to take the information. Until a ragged gasp followed by a hand slamming on the desk startled David from his musings. David jumped back in time with Peter shooting up to his feet, sending his chair clattering to the floor behind him.

"…What is it?" David asked.

Peter gulped, glaring at the screen, "I just found the sequence that made the Nomu undergo cellular degeneration."

David arched a brow, "That was fast."

"I recognize the sequence." Peter took a deep breath, clenching his fists, "The major cloners have their own little 'signatures' that identify their techniques as theirs. And this one…this one I've forced myself to know by heart."

David had a sinking feeling he knew who it was. Nevertheless, he asked, "Whose is it?"

"…Miles Warrens."

/+/+/+/+/

Garaki Kyudai hummed as he worked on the latest Nomu All for One had created. Wonderous creatures; but predisposed to breaking themselves under the weight of their new powers (this current one had grown wings, and they were fond of detaching from its back at the slightest twitch). It vexed All for One for years and was a problem that Kyudai was only barely able to solve himself.

And then, years ago, they were approached by a rather curious scientist who greatly eased their pains.

_Driiiing…Driiiing…Driiiing_

Ah, speak of the devil.

With barely a glance, Kyudai tapped on his computer screen, accepting the call. It wasn't a video call—no Villain worth their salt sent so much as a picture online—but there was a sound bar. "Garaki," the bar spiked

"Dr. Warren."

"Please, call me Jackal." Kyudai resisted the urge to snort. Americans; they so loved playing pretend. "I'm just checking up on you and the facilities. Everything operating smoothly?"

"Well," Kyudai shrugged, " _I_ have nothing to complain about."

"Ah, but the other members of your organization?" he could hear the smirk in the man's voice.

Kyudai clicked his tongue, "The facilities are all running smoothly. But tell me, have you heard about the recent buzz in Japan?"

"That Spider-Man captured a rather notorious serial killer?"

"I wasn't aware that information was made public."

"It's not. But I like to keep a close eye on Spider-Man's activites." Kyudai hummed; that made sense. Spider-Man had clashed at least once with every Villain that graced New York, and Jackal had spent a fair few years operating there. "I can only imagine how incensed your boss was."

"Actually," Kyudai smirked, "my dear employer was rather amused by the whole thing. Said he was almost impressed by how flagrantly All Might had flouted the law to his favor."

"Don't see why it's so surprising. He was a New York Vigilante for a few years."

"Ah, but this is Japan," Kyudai replied, "Pro-Heroes are supposed to be more…submissive towards the law."

Jackal chuckled, "All Might, submissive? Fat chance? And he's supposed to be their 'Top Hero'?"

"Oh, the government has very little input in that," he huffed, "Of course, once All Might's involvement in this little national embarrassment comes to light, he may just be dethroned."

"Does that change anything with your plans?"

"I don't believe so," Kyudai said. "But I only know my small part of the plan. My boss keeps everything close to the vest." In truth, Kyudai was unsure what All for One's endgame was beyond toppling Japan's Pro-Hero society and, potentially, killing All Might. But he was content to just go along for the ride.

"And what about the children?"

Warren only cared about one of them, but Kyudai played along with his faux-concern, "Shigaraki was incensed. He'd planned on recruiting Stain for his 'League of Villains'. Must've spent hours whining about how All Might was a cheater and other such childish nonsense."

"And Dabi?"

"He just found the whole thing amusing," a sentiment Kyudai shared.

"And he's keeping up with his medical regiment?"

"If only to avoid the pain."

"Well," Warren hummed, "that's the best we can hope for, I suppose."

/+/+/+/+/

**A/N: I forgot to add the part where Peter figures out who had a hand in making Nomu in the last chapter. Managed to make it its own thing. Be sure to leave a review. Later.**


End file.
